^{[Part-2 of a 3-Part series; click here to read Part-1, "Tai Chi Tales"]}

Yang Lu-Chan had quite the reputation as a martial artist, and deliberately so.  His two sons and only true disciples, Yang Pan-Hou and Yang Chien-Hou, were also renowned for their kung fu skills.  Pan-Hou particularly was a “chip off the old block” in terms of his hot temper, his predilection for sparring and his fame as a fighter.

  In a land where top martial artists were idolized like rock stars, news of a champion's novel and superbly powerful system of combat travelled fast and far.  When the tidings reached the ears of the Emperor, he summoned the foremost master of the new art to Beijing to instruct his Imperial Guard in the system.  Most sources identify Yang Lu-Chan as the master in question.  Others name Yang Pan-Hou, still others claim Yang Chien-Hou was chosen to train the Imperial troops.  It is quite possible and, in fact, more than likely that all three arrived in Beijing together, along with assorted members of their clan and household; that each took responsibility for instructing a separate segment of the militia and/or royal family; that the Yang-Family constellation in residence in Beijing at any given time varied with the seasons, the circumstances at the old homestead and the exigencies of state.

In the care of one Yang or another, Tai Chi Ch’uan came to the Imperial City, where it was taught to the Emperor’s Guards and members of the Imperial Family.  Among the guards was one Wu Quan-Yu; Wu taught the form to his son, and from this stream, Wu Style emerged.  Beyond Beijing, a union of Yang Style and Zhao Bao subsequently produced both the Wu Shi and Sun Styles.  According to the International Tai Chi Chuan Association (ITCCA), Original Yang Style was secretly preserved “in-house” for four generations – passed down from Yang Lu-Chan to Yang Chien-Hou, to Yang Cheng-Fu, to Yang Shou-Chung – at which point Shou-Chung began teaching it publicly, along with fifth generation disciple, Chu King Hung.

Or so the story goes.  But it is only part of the story.

In the centuries before the Emperor tapped the Yang family for their martial art expertise, China was a land ravaged by political upheaval.  When rebels attacked the Imperial City in 1644, the Ming Emperor hanged himself in response, effectively ending the Ming dynasty.  Seizing the moment, the Manchu – a powerful northern dynasty – marched to Beijing, ostensibly to assist the beleaguered Ming.  The Manchu's true agenda was to seat their seven year-old ruler on the throne.  Their success in this endeavor marked the beginning of the Ch’ing or Manchu dynasty – the last imperial dynasty of China.

There was no love lost between the new aristocracy (Manchu) and native Chinese (Han).  Over time, this enmity grew and festered.  The Emperor was Manchurian; the Yangs were Han.  When the Emperor appointed Master Yang (elder or junior) martial arts instructor to his Manchurian troops, it was an appointment Yang was loath to accept, but could not refuse, on pain of death.  Already well versed in the various permutations of secrecy, the Yangs were politically motivated to keep their system “all in the family,” as well.  In his seminal work, Tai Chi Classics, Waysun Liao comments:

While all essentially concur with Liao’s story-line, those who trace their Tai Chi Ch’uan heritage through the elder of Lu-Chan’s two sons insist it was Yang Pan-Hou posted to Beijing as martial arts instructor, and he who modified the form.  “Reluctant to divulge his family's martial arts ‘secrets’ to the occupying forces,” explains JoAnn Gee- (Laoshi) Schoon,  “Yang Pan-Hou deliberately omitted those elements which comprised the powerful, effective fighting techniques.”  Master Donald Rubbo elaborates:

The Manchurians were aristocrats and were not inclined to the more strenuous exercises, so Yang Pan-Hou adapted his father's Guang Ping form to be more delicate and less martial, and taught them a middle-to-small frame form.  This the Yang Tai Chi style that has come to be known as the Beijing Yang Style.

Whichever Yang or Yangs altered the form, there is no doubt but that the art was stripped of its martial power before it was taught to the Emperor’s guards and Manchu elite.  Once the rich-and-famous Imperial Family embraced the practice, its popularity soared among the Chinese leisure classes. It retained this popularity until the end of the Ch’ing dynasty; when the dynasty fell, the displaced nobility carried their altered forms with them out of China and taught them to others, claiming – and believing – that their style was the true art of Tai Chi, for had they not learned it the Yang masters themselves or from their devoted disciples?

In his search for a teacher, Dutch Tai Chi player Frits van der Putten found the current diversity of style and tangled lines of inheritance so confusing, he created a graphic to help sort out the various Yang systems (viewable as either a table or a tree at http://www.taichi-uden.nl/diversity.html).  Van der Putten’s findings, which he published with the caveat, “This data is far from complete…” lists no less than 15 separate Yang traditions identified by 25+ different labels, and each with its own passel of “direct-line” teachers.  Most of these styles claim to be or have access to “inner door” teachings and/or the secret form or forms that are Yang Lu-Chan’s true legacy.

All claims aside, to the trained and untrained eye alike, the Yang forms most people practice are full of beauty, empty of threat.  This is not to say the moves cannot be used effectively in combat.  The energies of the Eight Gates (ward-off, roll-back, press, push, pull, split, elbow strike, shoulder strike) and Five Steps or Directions (advance, retreat, (look) left, (look) right, center (equilibrium)) are all present, albeit in such gentle guises, only the martially-sophisticated observer can recognize them as aggressive or defensive actions.  But are these patently subtle moves the same Yang Lu-Chan used to overcome all opponents?  Could any of these forms be the signature style of the greatest martial artist of an age?  Or rather, is the effective application of the preeminient Yang styles in combat more a demonstration of masterful QiGong (the direction of internal life-force through focused intention) than proof of the inherent martial supremacy of the system?

The ITCCA (Original Yang Style) makes no bones about it:

Synchronous with, and perhaps in acknowledgement of the loss of the system’s martial aspect, the martial aspect of its name has also waned.  Today, the appelation Tai Chi Ch’uan (“Supreme Ultimate Fist” or “Grand Ultimate Boxing”) is rarely used; the art is more commonly referred to by the abbreviated Tai Chi.

Some Yang Style players may protest that as Tai Chi is an internal art, its external appearance is not a valid measure of its martial efficacy and that the style’s languid charm is deliberate, a manifestation of the Taoist principle that “the soft overcomes the hard.”  All well and good, but even a cursory comparison of the traditional Chen and, say, the Beijing Yang forms reveals that though both are internal, Taoist-based arts, the Chen Style boasts unmistakably martial punches, stamps, kicks and jumps that the Yang Style is completely lacking. 

Tai Chi Ch'uan's martial art/healing art dichotomy is as old as the practice itself and entirely in keeping with the system’s origins.   The internal arts focus on the cultivation of life-energy; whether that energy is then used to eliminate an opponent or an ailment is a matter of choice.

Less in keeping with its origins and history is its regrettable slide from matchless martial art to New Age health fad, a plunge precipitated by the precept that the system is not intrinsically martial.  Most modern-day masters readily concede that if Tai Chi Ch'uan was once a martial art, it is now primarily – even exclusively – a healing art that enhances health and fitness by improving balance, flexibility and coordination, stimulating circulation, building strength and calming the heart-mind.

True enough, the practice does provide terrific health benefits -- but so do virtually all exercise systems.  Myriad studies have proven that physical activity is beneficial for body, mind and spirit, regardless of the nature of the activity or its level of difficulty.  While performing Tai Chi for health purposes will certainly reward practitioners with the desired results, executing the movements with no awareness or understanding of their martial applications is, at best, good QiGong.  True Tai Chi Ch’uan does not exist independent of its martial context.